


Who Dean Wants

by lightbringer666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gay Sam Winchester, Jealous Sam, Jealousy, Kinda just figuring himself out, M/M, Pining Sam, Sad, Sam Has an Eating Disorder, Sam is 14, Weecest, anorexic sam, bi sam winchester, dean is 18, self starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbringer666/pseuds/lightbringer666
Summary: It started pretty innocently, and then Sam became desperate to be who Dean wantsWARNING! ANOREXIA AND SELF HATE





	1. It began

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this is based on my personal experience with anorexia.

Sam had toyed with the idea for some time now. Every time he saw Dean with a pretty girl on his arm, his arms around her size .01 waist and his fingers absently tracing her collar bones. He had known for a year that that was how he wanted to look. He wanted to be skinny and small and dainty and fragile. He wasn't particularly sure how, though. 

Dean would always talk about his hook ups. How he could pick them up and push them around, how he could fit both of his newest fling's wrists into one hand. The fourteen year old made sure Dean didn't see him messing with his own wrists, unable to fully entrap one in between his thumb and index finger. 

"I mean, I could play xylophone on her ribs, man! God, Casey was a joyride!" His big brother had boasted. He found himself wanting to be Casey. Wanting Dean to boast about every bone peeking through his skin, wanted Dean to pick him up and count his ribs. 

After school that day, he had walked up to Casey as he waited for Dean to pick him up, she was a Senior, but Dean had already dropped out. He looked down, not even close to Casey's height yet. 

"How are you so skinny?" He asked, desperation thick in his voice and he prayed to any deity currently available that the girl couldn't tell. She smiled down at him. 

"Wanna know a secret, Hon?" Her gloss covered lips turned up in a joking smile, "I just don't eat. You slow it down and slow down and eventually, you don't need food anymore!" 

Looking back, he could tell she was joking, but it was too late. He was already determined. 

He hopped into the Impala, which was already packed. Heading into a new town with a stolen pack of gum and a new goal in his mind.


	2. Sammy's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sad anorexic Sam

A scale was hard to take around, so he carried a dollar store tape measure. The kind you use for making clothing and stuff.  

He started with counting calories, like how he ate 2,000 a day. He started by cutting it to 1,200. He started ordering salads instead of fast food. Skipping lunch at school. Not much to worry about. He smiled when he lost half an inch off his waist in a month. 

He grew addicted to the feeling he got when he lost weight. He kept wondering how it would be if he ate a little less, exercised a little more. 

He began fasting two months in, getting prouder every hour he didn't eat, when his father and Dean were gone, he'd not eat for days at a time. High off the dizziness and mood swings. Coffee for breakfast (30 cal with sweetener) no lunch, tea for dinner (45 cal)

If Dean noticed that he was lighter, he'd just say he 'ran out of money' and pocket the rest. He can use it to buy stuff for when he's thin. 

The cycle was obviously dangerous, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He couldn't see his ribs yet, his collar bones weren't poking out, his wrists were still thick and fat. He couldn't stop now. He couldn't have a problem if he wasn't even skinny.

He had learned what anorexia was, but it was all skinny girls. With ribs sticking out and collar bones that could hold water. They were all pretty. They were all the kind of girls Dean would want. He was a boy with baby fat and a diet of fast food yogurt and salad. 

He wasn't skinny, so he couldn't possibly be anorexic.

~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~

Dean came home early 13 hours into a fast.

Sam was on a ratty motel bed, watching Lolita. The movie was disgusting in concept, especially if you had read the book, but something about the actress made him keep watching. Maybe it was her slim waist and sharp face. Features that Sam wanted so much. 

The eighteen year old threw his keys onto the desk and walked closer to his brother. He poked Sam when he got close enough and the boy flinched.

'God, what if he feels my fat and ~~thinks~~ knows I'm gross? Does he feel how soft my body is? Ugh, why am I so gross?'

But, Dean never said anything about the fat that his little brother is sure he had noticed, instead, he smiled down, his bright green eyes shining. 

"You've been looking pretty slimmed lately, Sammy," he said, "you wanna go get some grub at the diner? I brought money back!" 

Sam flinched again. He had only been actually losing weight for an hour. The body takes an average of 12 hours to stop burning glucose and switch to fat, he had read that before. 

He knew he shouldn't have, but his face flushed a little when Dean had said he was "slimmed down". Maybe he deserved a little bit of a treat. 

"Sure, Dean. Just let me grab my shoes."

 

As he slowly ate his yogurt, Sam laughed with his big brother. He mentally tracked the 120 calories as he ate and allowed himself to relax. 

Until they were about to leave, Dean grabbed the waitress' number and promised to meet her at the diner when she gets off so they can have fun. 

Sam ran around the block from the time Dean left to midnight, returning and showering. 

He felt disgusting, sweaty, tired, and in control.


	3. You Okay, buddy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's a getting little bit concerned for his baby brother.

Dean stared at his little brother. He wasn't sure what, but something was wrong. His 'protect Sammy' sense hasn't shut off in forever. His eyes kept skimming the kid. His shirt, slightly hanging off of him. 

He had noticed Sam was losing weight. Metabolism speeding up the way that kids' do, but that didn't stop the concern. Sam hadn't hit a growth spirt yet, so the loss of this much weight may hurt his growth. Every chance Dean got, he'd invite Sam to eat, get some meat on his bones, but he would typically reject the offer, having eaten at school or the library.

He kept watching his baby brother as he read. Eyes shifting uneasily and his left hand occasionally coming up to grab his right wrist and vice versa. He seemed incredibly fidgety and nervous. 

The brunet, apparently not noticing the attention, looked up from his book, a bony hand reaching for his pencil. 

"Stop staring at me, De..." He shook his head, making his moppy hair fall into his face. 

"What's wrong with looking at ya?"

_'You're so beautiful...'_

He shook his head.  _'He's your baby brother, Dean. That's sick. You're sick!'_

"I dunno, I just don't like people looking at me," Sam shrugged. 

Dean looked away, his heart breaking at the small, self conscious undertone in his voice. Sam was so perfect, soft and smooth and brittle and demanding and emotional in the weirdest, but most beautiful ways. Growing every day to be stronger and more mature and somehow more perfect than the day before. But, there was no possible way he could convey that without definite raised eyebrows, so, he expressed it in a way that a real big brother should:

With a playful punch to the side. "Feeling not-so-pretty today, Princess Samantha?" He asked, receiving an embarrassed shove as a response.

"Shut up, Jerk!"

"Calm down, Bitch, I was just joking," Dean fought off the smaller fists with laughter. "What do you say we go down to the arcade down the road and get some pizza? You've been on your bed all day!" 

Sammy frowned, "Maybe later, Dean. I'm not really hungry right now..."

"You're never hungry these days, but you've gotta eat. You didn't even have breakfast this morning!" 

Dean watched his baby shrug. "I don't know, metabolism maybe. I'm just not hungry."

"But you should still eat, stopping so suddenly could hurt, you're still growing, Thumbelina."

"Dean, I said I'm not hungry, let it go!" The kid snapped at him, standing up. "I'm going to the library, I'll see you later..." 

Dean was frozen as he watched Sammy walk away in a grumbling huff. 

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was wrong. And there was no way in Hell he would just let it go.


	4. Waiting to be weightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembers why he's doing this.
> 
> Dean's affection. 
> 
> His arms around him, the new him, dainty and perfect. Dean picking him up with ease.
> 
> His old leather jacket. So big it slides off his frame, wearing it like a robe. Or a dress with boxers under it, no longer ashamed to show his thighs. 
> 
> Being Dean's type. 
> 
> His goals were worth a little bit of hunger. Just a little longer...

During runs, Sam liked to stop in the library. It had a water fountain, air conditioning, chairs.

And most appealing,  _no food allowed._

Some days, especially while emotional or fasting, he can't help but feel like he'd binge whatever he saw. He knew he wasn't supposed to be exercising during a fast, but how could he help it? He  _needed_ to move. To burn the calories even if he wasn't getting any. 

What happened wasn't really a fight, but it still kind of hurt. Why did Dean want him to eat so much? Didn't he  _want_ Sam to be happy? To be thin and dainty and perfect? 

The brunet would sit in the library until his stomach protested audibly, then he'd grab some gum and keep running. 

It can be hard, torturous even, some days, but he can't stop now. Not when he's getting slimmer seemingly by the day. 

It could be easy to give in some days, eat the fatty, calorie drenched foods Dean offered him, skip a workout to stalk Dean and his dates, but he remembers why he's doing this.

Dean's affection.

His arms around him, the new him, dainty and perfect. Dean picking him up with ease.

His old leather jacket. So big it slides off his frame, wearing it like a robe. Or a dress with boxers under it, no longer ashamed to show his thighs.

Being Dean's type.

His goals were worth a little bit of hunger. Just a little longer...

A little longer...

 _I have to work for perfection,_ he thought.  _Blood, sweat, tears, hunger... all of it will be worth it in Dean's arms._

He passed a girl who was also jogging, her ribs nearly showing from her short exercise shirt, collar bones poking out just a bit. 

That urged him to keep going. He was slowing down, but he refused to stop. Refused to give up.

Ana whispered in his ear. 

_Push harder, run farther, keep going. You're almost there! You're going to be so perfect._

God, he wanted to be perfect. To be graceful and elegant looking and slim. To have Dean pick him up again, no harder than when he was a child. He wanted to feel the air between his thighs. He wanted long, slender fingers...

He looked up, realizing how far he's gone. 

He stopped, trying to figure out where he was. He felt his torso. He could feel his ribs, see them faintly, but not count them. His collar bones stuck out, but without the prominence he desired. His wrist was thin, but not enough.

Not enough, never enough. He wasn't enough. Not skinny enough, not pretty enough, not perfect enough, he was never going to be enough. 

He wanted to be perfect, thin and slender, dainty and fragile. He couldn't wait for weightlessness. For skinny.

He couldn't wait to be sick. 

He began to run home, establishing a route.

He ran again, thinking of the calories. The food he wouldn't stop thinking about. 

Weightlessness.

He feels weightless.

He isn't touching the ground.

Weightless.

He hits the ground. 

Weightless. 

Sam closes his eyes, getting lost in the weightlessness.


	5. Crash

Dean was pacing the hotel room. He and Sammy never fought, what the Hell was going on with the kid? He's so moody and angry and tired. Dean's been concerned for a solid three months. Non stop big brother concern, and it was exhausting, but not as bad as Sam looked. Bags under his eyes, shoulders always slouching. The constant excitement that once glowed in his eyes now dull and exhausted. 

At first, Dean suspected it was just puberty and teen angst, but it kept getting worse, and eventually, concerning.

Dean's eyes always found themselves moving towards Sam. Not in the  _badwrongno_ way that they usually did, but the eyes of a big brother. The eyes of someone whose little brother is sick. He had no clue what, but something was happening with Sam. His cheeks seem to get hollower by the day, his hands shaking and waist shrinking. Dean knew he should just tell him he's concerned, but how do you bring it up? Not to mention Sam's mood seemed to constantly be in the pit, the littlest thing would set him off. 

But, as the big brother, Dean knew he needed to be responsible and try to help Sammy. Protect Sammy. 

He started his trek to the library, where the little geek quite obviously would be. The day was nice, not too hot, but not freezing either. At least he yelled Sammy out of the hotel room on a nice day. The thought caused Dean to look down in shame. 

His eyes kept to the ground, occasionally looking up to see if he had reached the library. He sighed dramatically, seeming a lot like Sammy, when he saw someone on the other side of the sidewalk. 

Hunter instinct kicked in and he went to the stranger's aid. Checking for breathing, they were. Checking for injuries, two bruises on the legs, near the ankles and a few scrapes on the arms. He went to see if there were any cuts on the stranger's face when his heart stopped. The stranger happened to be the only person in the world Dean didn't consider a stranger. 

"Sammy? Hey, Sammy! Sammy!" He tried to shake the kid awake, but it didn't seem to help. Green eyes scanned the immediate surroundings, looking for a demon or ghost or ghoul or human or anything he had the power to punch that could have caused this, but it seemed that either they left or Sam just fell unconscious. 

"Damnit, kiddo, what's going on with you?" He sighed, lifting the younger boy up. The brunet was light - too light - and Dean thought about how he hadn't held the kid this easy since he was ten. "You shouldn't be this small, Sammy..." 

Getting him to the hotel room was easy. There he did his basic checkups. 

Heart rate, normal.

No more concerning injuries.

Breathing, normal. No signs of wheezing.

Next, some basic monster tests, salt, holy water, iron, _Christo_...

Desperate to see what was wrong, Dean tried more tests. He pulled out a breathalyzer, a couple of drugstore drug tests, even checked his blood sugar. Something  _had_ to be wrong!

The blood sugar was 67. Low for even fasting sugar. There was no way Sam ate at the library.

A little bit of sugar water and a whole lot of anxiety later, a pouty little brother was the most of Dean's worries. Not really, but it was one of his top momentary priorities.

"Sammy, what the Hell? Why would you _ever_ let your sugar get that low?!" Dean screamed, not caring if the next door 'neighbors' wanted to pound through the wall in complaint. "You've gotta take better care of yourself, Kiddo! Pay attention to what's going in and out of your body. I almost had a heart attack, Sammy! What if someone else found you, just fucking lying there? Or a monster? You can't let yourself drift that way!"

Dean finished his mini lecture with tears in his eyes, and Sam just nodded. God nonexistent, the kid was scaring him.

"Okay, Dean. I get it. Can I shower now?" He asked with bored eyes.

"Sure, just leave the door open, humor me for peace of mind..."

Sam sighed, but complied with his older brother's request.

Dean sat on his bed, shaking.

Waiting for the sound that mimics his heart.

Waiting for a _crash_.


	6. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of happiness to counteract the sad. I added an OC. 
> 
>  
> 
> BTW, they mix water with apple cider vinegar, it's supposed to speed up metabolism and it tastes like it came right from Hell.

Needless to say, Dean has been concerned these past few months. 

Sam was constantly surrounded by food. Burgers, yogurt, salad, cookie dough, and Dean would flip any time Sam didn't have any. By the time Dean left for a hunt with Dad, Sam was up to almost 1200 calories per day, and he was maintaining his weight. 

"It feels like if I eat anything for the next week I'm gonna scream!" He groaned to his best friend at this school, Marilynn, she was a mousy girl, though a bit overweight, who he would work out and skip lunch with, she showed all the signs and he asked at one point if she had a disorder and they've been eating disorder pals ever since. 

"I know!" Mary sighed back, "my dad has made it his life mission to make me eat at least two meals a day. He gave me a muffin once, a  _muffin_ , do you know how long that takes to work off?!" 

Sam nodded. "Last night, before my brother left with my dad, the businessman, he and I ate an  _entire_ tube of cookie dough. Each! I almost threw it up, but then he might have stayed home..."

He felt really bad, complaining about his family's concern for him, but he couldn't stop the anxiety in his gut when he thought of Dean making him eat another lunch with him or have a movie night.

"It just feels like, if they really cared about my well being, they'd leave me the Hell alone!" Sam laughed, agreeing with his friend's exclamation. Whenever he felt like shit, it was always good to know that he wasn't alone. That he and Marilynn at the very least were fighting their bodies together. 

"It feels nice, you know, having someone who gets it... I mean, I love my brother, he's like a dad to me, and my dad is like, well, an uncle or something. I love them, and I know they love me, but it just seems like they'll never get it!" 

The girl nodded. "All I have is my dad, and I know he loves me and all, but he doesn't get that  _I_ don't love me! I don't love  _this_!" She grabbed at her stomach, emphasizing the bit of overhang showing from her jeans. Sam nodded, remembering when it was his own stomach poking out. Now it was relatively flat, but it didn't seem to want to shrink any more. 

"I haven't lost any weight in four months! I'm thinking of telling my dad I'm vegan or something, just to get him to stop feeding me trash!"

She laughed, her semi-jog slowing to a walk by a park bench. Sam joined her and sat down. 

"So, any reason for the starvation? Like, any idea what triggered it? You're a pretty scrawny dude..." Mary sipped her water (laced with a bit of nasty vinegar shit she got for the both of them. Disgusting, but it's worth it for the metabolism boost). 

Sam shrugged. "I dunno, maybe it's just how my family's cursed. I tend to get the harsher parts of it..." his friend laughed. "Dude, I'm serious, the Winchesters are fucked! We're a bunch of fucking drunks with abandonment issues, no healthy coping mechanisms, and no actual motivation, and I'm just kinda dragged around by that. I mean, you really think that if I had any social skills, I wouldn't be all fucking over you, making all these winks and smiles and flirts," Marilynn was taken aback, but Sam continued, "but noooo, I have to prefer fucking green eyes and nice abs and literally the straightest kind of guy a gay guy could wish for and..." he took a sip of his water bottle, flinching at the vinegar taste. "Sorry, I got really frustrated, there..."

Mary smiled. "I called it..."

"What?"

"I called it. I was talking to my cousin, Madi, and the first day I saw you I thought you looked gay as Hell. She thought I was imagining it, but I called it!"

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes, all tension from the moment gone. "Yeah, cause forget the cursed family thing, let's focus on the gay!"

"Hey," Marilynn cut him off, "it's always time to focus on the gay."

"I'll drink to that!"

The two anorexic losers laughed, sitting on a park bench on a Saturday, focusing on the gay and clinking plastic water bottles. 

They both took a swig, clearly resisting the urge to spit it back out. 

"This is honestly shit," Mary cringed.

"Yeah, why do we do this again?"


	7. Baby

Dean Winchester was very protective of his little brother. Dad knew that, other hunters knew that, Hell, most girlfriends he had in the past immediately understood that Sammy was top priority. When Sam was sick, even a little cold, out of anyone's control, Dean felt personally responsible, when Sam was hurt, Dean stitched him up with the pain tenfold in his chest, anytime something was wrong with Sammy, something was wrong with Dean. Dean could never be fine with his baby brother feeling miserable.

He had hoped that the movie night and boys' time he and Sam had would be enough to help him get out of this rut, and it seemed to work, his eyes lit up a little when Dean told jokes, he whined at Dean's movie pick (Western,  _obviously_ ), and the two had each finished a pack of cookie dough before Dean went with their father. 

He was a bit disappointed when Dad dropped him off again a few weeks later, moving to another nearby town. If you counted out of state 'nearby'. The disappointment grew when he found Sam just as sick looking as he had left him, but he supposed it took time.

Dean had just started believing that things were going to be okay, that Sammy was going to just gain back all the weight that he lost and go back to being that bubbly, happy kid that he had been just 13 months before.. That maybe Sam was just forgetting to take care of himself for a bit and that, once Dean stepped in, things would get better. 

And then he got a call. 

 "Is this the father of Samuel Winchester?" The voice on the other line asked, her tone was too high and too sweet for her to possibly hold good news.

"It's his brother, I'm his guardian while our dad's out of town, what is it?" Concern blossomed in Dean's chest. "Did he get into a fight? Because I promise that he's a little nerd and no matter what he tells you, the other kid started it!"

"No, Mr. Winchester, nothing like that..." The woman seemed nervous. "Your brother lost consciousness in gym class today. He's resting in my office for now, but I don't see any conditions that he may have to cause this. Do you know why this may have happened?"

"Not at all ma'am... Do you know what may have caused it?"

"No, Mr. Winchester. Sam seemed to be fine this morning, according to Marilynn Webster, who brought him to the nurse."

"Well obviously he wasn't! I'll be there in ten minutes!" Dean growled to himself. What could be wrong? Why was this happening? More importantly, how could he fix it?

 Dean's mind was racing with anything that could possibly be harming his little brother. What could be messing with him. Maybe his blood sugar again? Maybe he needed to talk to Dad about Sammy's blood sugar is messing with him and they need help. Maybe he knew a hunter or two who could get something for it. 

By the time the Impala reached the school, Sammy's safety was already front and center in Dean's mind, worrying him sick. Sammy Station full on while he knocked on the office doors. 

"Dean Winchester, Samuel's guardian!" Dean said into the speaker before the woman could even ask his name. She seemed to notice his tension though, and immediately opened the door for him. 

"The nurse's office is the second door to your left, Mr. Winchester," she smiled, though her distaste was obvious in her eyes as they scanned his leather jacket and ripped jeans. Dean didn't need his hunting training to feel her eyes following him down the hallway. 

"Sammy?" Dean whispered as he entered the nurse's office. Sam was in the crappy white bed, sitting up and sipping on some water. There was a girl next to him. Dean's shoulders immediately relaxed at seeing Sam awake. 

"De? What're you doing here?" Sam asked, ignoring the girl's little chuckle at the nicknames.

"The nurse called me. Is it your blood sugar again? I'm gonna tell Dad to get that checked out if this keeps happening. I'll work to pay the bills myself, even. You can't keep doing this. What if you passed out on a hunt? I'd never forgive myself if I let something happen to you-"

"Dean!" Sam rolled his eyes in a true angst-filled-teenager fashion. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep much last night and I skipped breakfast. You don't need to worry about me."

"Of course I do, Sammy," Dean sighed. "You're my baby brother! I can't just let you waste away when Dad leaves. Worrying is my job!"

 The girl beside him giggled, bringing Dean's attention to her.

"Speaking of worrying, who's this, kiddo?" Dean waggled his eyebrows, both started laughing then. 

"I'm Marilynn!" The girl chirped. "His warden for nine hours of the day!"

"And why didn't You tell me you had a little girlfriend, Sammy?" Green eyes glinted at Marilynn and her blood stopped moving.

"It's not like that, Dean!" Sam's face went bright red. Marilynn just laughed beside him. 

"I'm not really into him, he's cute and all, but I'm more into, you know, girls..." Dean's expression didn't even flinch as he nodded. 

"Ah, so you're more of a sister. Well, it's the kiddo's loss, you'll have ladies knocking down your door someday."  Dean smiled at her, charming and bright. "I'm gonna go get you some juice, to up your sugar. Just in case." When the emerald gaze landed on Sam's bitchface #49, a laugh rang out across the little room. "I worry, okay? You want any, Marilynn?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

With a nod, the eldest Winchester walked out of the nurses office, searching for a vending machine or something. But he heard his little brother's near hysteric voice.

"Why would you say that? You have a boyfriend!" Was he talking to Marilynn?

"Well, I wanted to see if he was cool with it! You know, testing the waters for you! He seems fine with it!" What was she talking about? Testing for Sam to do what?

"Yeah, well you aren't a boy who lives with him! And you don't know my dad! He'd freak!" Is this what Dean thinks it is?

"C'mon! You're gay, not a zombie!" Marilynn sighed. 

"Not so loud!" Sam cut her off as Dean quietly ran down the hallway.

Is that it? That he's gay? Maybe that's why he was acting so odd... maybe... 

Well yeah, the passing out was a concern, but maybe he just acting weird because he was figuring stuff out...

Did he really think Dean would be mad at him?

As he found the vending machine, Dean looked down in half-shame. 

"Baby boy, you have no idea..."


	8. Take Care of Sammy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of disordered fluff, tired boredom, mostly.

The funds that Dad had left behind were running out, so Dean had picked up a job. A garage in the downtown area. He was on call a majority of the time. It didn't really bother Sam too much. Well, it did, but only because he missed Dean. It made things easier when it came to fasting though, so he kept his mouth shut. 

Sometimes, Dean let Marilynn stay over. He assumed that, since Dean thought she was gay it was no big deal. Not to mention the fact that Dean used to have girls at the hotel all the time who were much less platonic. 

Dean would always leave the same, giving Sam a pat on the head and Marilynn a short, sort of mocking 'take care of Sammy', just like their dad did. 

Sleepovers with Mari were very different from sleepovers Sam used to have and go to. The twenty that Dean had left them to order a pizza went into a little 'tea party' and Mari brought over her scale. With that and his tape measure, Sam had learned that, with his 5'10" height and his weight of 125 pounds, he was underweight. Not by much, but it was nice to know. Mary, at 5'4" and 150 pounds, was overweight. He supposed that's why her dad never noticed. 

The two would drink their tea and watch whatever movie was on that night, listen to The Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails as they laughed about nothing. Sometimes, they'd go out for runs at nine or ten at night, then wake up at six in the morning and run the same route. Mari showed Sam all of her favorite spots to run. Sam showed her his. They shared stories of their childhoods and their hopes and dreams. Both of their mothers had died when they were young, but instead of vengeance like John had wanted, Mari's dad just internalized it and pushed himself to make Mari's life as normal as possible in her single parent household. 

The children laughed and insulted one another all night. It was surprising, he had never realized how many social situations hinged on food until he had such a good time without worrying about it. It felt nice to be around Marilynn. She had never forced him to pretend or made him feel stupid or odd. She never asked him about his dad or his brother or why he lived in a motel. 

It felt nice, having friends without feeling like an oddity. 

When Dean would come home the next morning, he'd find Sam in his bed, having given his own to his friend. It happened every time, Dean's little brother ever the gentleman. 

Dean would just crawl into the covers next to his baby boy, resisting the urge to surround him completely. Sometimes he'd place his hands near Sam, just to make sure he was still there, he was really there. Sammy was in his bed. It made him sick how the sentence made him smile. 

The older Winchester would relax next to Sam only to be woken a couple of hours later by the two highschoolers getting ready to run. 

Sam smiled when Dean called out. 

"Be safe, kids. Marilynn, take care of Sammy." 

Sam felt safe.

* * *

 Safe enough to tell her the truth. 

One morning, during their jog, the park was barely lit. Nobody was around and Sam felt comfortable. 

"Do you want to know a secret?" Sam asked.

Marilynn looked shocked that he had spoken, but nodded. "You can tell me anything, Sam. We're best friends, remember?" 

"Do you promise not to hate me?"

"Of course," Marilynn's eyebrows lifted up a little bit. "What's wrong?"

"You know that guy that I like? The one who's straight?" Another nod. "Do you want to know who it is?"

Mari immediately perked up. "Yeah! Of course! I've narrowed it down to three boys in our school, two of them are football players, but one seems like a good fit for you!"

"He doesn't go to our school... He's a bit older than that..."

"Oooo, you like older guys, Sammy?" 

"Only he's allowed to call me that..." 

Somehow that was all it took for it to click. That and all the  _'take care of Sammy's_ that she'd heard over the last couple of weeks. 

"Oh god. It's him..." Sam just nodded. "It's Dean... you..." 

"Wanna fuck my older brother? Yes."

"Don't need that imaging there, Sam! Oh no..." Sam shrunk back, prepared to run if she started swinging. She lunged and he got ready to move out of the way-

-when she hugged him.

"You're right. Maybe you're just cursed..." The girl patted his head and Sam did the unthinkable.

In the middle of a park at six in the morning, hugging a girl from his class, Sam actually thought about what his crush entails for him.

In the middle of a park at six in the morning, hugging a girl from his class, Sam cried. 

 


	9. Why Not?

Sammy's stomach was growling. Dean could hear it, probably would be able to even without focusing as intently as he was, but his brother seemed to be in pain. 

"You want something to eat kiddo? Your stomach thinks you're dying," he tried to keep his voice even and casual. Act as though hearing any sign of Sammy in distress, even just his body wanting food, wasn't a personal attack on his ability to take care of his baby brother. As though it didn't feel like Sam's own body were telling Dean that he wasn't able to care for him, that he was letting him get hurt or waste away. 

Sam shrugged. "I don't know what I want, Dean. I don't think I even want anything..."

"Well you need to eat something, kiddo, or your body will start eating you." Sam didn't seem to be objecting to that. "There's hardly anything there for it to eat off of, you have to supply outer stuff."

"I'll be fine, Dean."

"If you don't eat, you can't control your sugar. You can't just let yourself slip away, Sam!" 

 "Dean, I promise I'll be okay!"

"Not if you don't take care of yourself! I haven't seen you eat anything all day! You don't get it, Sam! You could die! I can't let that happen, Kiddo!"

"Why not?"

Dean's entire world froze. 

"Is that even a question, Sammy?" Dean asked. "You're my world, Kid. Every day, all I need. 'Protect Sammy Protect Sammy', that's what keeps me going..."  


"It shouldn't be, though!" Sam snapped. "I can't let you throw everything away for me!"

"But I  _want to_ , Sam! I'd give up all I am for you!"

"Being  _willing to_ and  _wanting to_ are two different things, Dean! You are  _willing to_ do that and you  _shouldn't have to_!" Sam threw himself on his bed in a huff. 

Dean stopped. Thinking bout all the ways that he would try to protect his brother. From basic care, giving him rides and making meals for him to more hefty tasks like stitching him up every time he gets hurt and throwing himself in front of him during a hunt. 

Never once did he think of the possibility that he could decide not to do those things, and even when he did, he didn't like the outcome.

"You don't know what I think, Kid! You have no clue!" Sam was sulking in his bed, seemingly oblivious to Dean's words.

Dean waited until his brother was asleep before he whispered. "Dear God, I hope you don't know the things I think..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, my family did a cell check (lol) and found my diary, so I haven't been able to be on the computer for a bit, I hope I can make up for it with more frequent updates.


	10. Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam knew hunger before all of this. He knew the long weeks stretching rations, the 'cash is low' staple meals that left you empty but nourished, Sam knew long drives where Dad didn't want to stop and probably wouldn't be able to convince anything with eyes or ears that he was sober anyways. Sam knew hunger, he just never enjoyed it before.

Sam knew the backseat of the Impala better than he knew himself. He knew every imperfection in the leather seats, every creak and rattle of the air conditioner. Sam had slept in this car since he was born and lived in it since he was six months old. By the time he was ten, her engine purred him to sleep, her hum occasionally mixed with the growl of an empty stomach.

Sam knew hunger before all of this. He knew the long weeks stretching rations, the 'cash is low' staple meals that left you empty but nourished, Sam knew long drives where Dad didn't want to stop and probably wouldn't be able to convince anything with eyes or ears that he was sober anyways. Sam knew hunger, he just never enjoyed it before. 

Before this disorder, Sam didn't know that it was possible to enjoy something he knew could hurt him, didn't know he could become so easily addicted to something so dangerous. Before this, Sam didn't know that it was possible to be this sick. Didn't know it was possible to like it.

Splaying across Dean's bed, Sam sighed. Dean was out with some girl, Maria or Sara or something ending with an a. She was pretty, bright blue eyes and dark brown hair. Her arms were skeletal and her collar bones could hold water. Sam glared at her with envy as the two walked away, his arm around her slim waist, gripping the belt that loosely framed it. Stared forlorn at her long, thin legs, only made to look thinner with her high heels.

Sam had been falling off track recently, eating every eight or so hours, higher calorie meals, more soda, more coffee,  _more_. It's been feeling hopeless and right when he felt his worst, Dean had to twist the knife. He was torn between wasting all his money on binge food or never eating again. Nothing would help. Nothing would make him feel better. Sam stood up, heading for the door to the hotel room.

The second his feet hit the ground, his skin getting exposed to the chilly air, he didn't particularly mind though, not enough to go all the way back inside and grab his (Dean's) jacket. 

* * *

 

Sam returned to the hotel room long after the sun went down, after two trips to the library and three shame-soaked jogs around. He didn't expect Dean back until the next morning. Definitely didn't expect to see him next to the door at eleven thirty at night as he walked into the hotel room.

"Where were you, Sam?" There was no 'Hello', no 'Missed you, Sammy'. Just a question with the most pitiful look on his face, a worse voice.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing much, De. Just went out to the library."

"For the last two hours?" Dean yelled. "Where were you? You can tell me anything, Kiddo."

"No, I can't!" It wasn't true, Dean would hate him. He'd hate him if he knew he was wasting food, he'd hate him if he knew he was killing himself like this, he'd hate him if he knew how skinny and effeminate he wanted to be. He'd hate him if...

If he knew that he wanted to have sex with his own brother. Wanted to stay by his big, loving protector's side forever. Wanted to share his life with Dean...

He couldn't. Dean would hate him if he knew.

"Sammy, it's okay, Kiddo. I know..." Dean's arms wrapped around him and Sam froze, self conscious about his edges and curves and fat. It was scary, what did he know?

"I got you, I know..."


End file.
